


Vignettes

by kikibug13



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Adorable, Friendship, Gen, Short, Team
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-15
Updated: 2012-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 04:58:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikibug13/pseuds/kikibug13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of Young Justice ficlets, as inspiration strikes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Asleep

Wally blinked, realizing he'd managed to doze off, but... there was something keeping him from bouncing off and heading to bed. 

A blink more, and he woke up enough to figure out what that was. Robin had dozed off against his arm, black hair smooshed against the sleeve of his t-shirt. It made his breath catch. He'd seen the younger boy passed out, knocked out on a mission, but never, not once, not even with him, trusting enough to _relax_ like this. 

He hesitated for a moment. Then figured this was probably not comfy for Rob, either, so he _veryquickly_ moved his arm, so, instead of against his shoulder, Robin's head was leaning against his chest. And Wally's arm was around the black-caped shoulders. 

There. That was better. Now they could both nap some more.


	2. Worried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little less fluffy... still adorable.

It had been bad enough to watch Dick upset, after _that_ training exercise, but this was worse. The boy was huddling in on himself, and much as Wally knew how strong he was, right now it looked like he was made of stick arms around stick legs folded over misery. 

"Hey..."

"Stay away from me!" Somehow, Robin managed to press himself even further against the wall. 

"But..."

"Who _are_ you?"

"What? It's me. Kid Flash. Wally. You know who I am!"

"Do I? What's a kid flash?"

"... Rob..."

"You know me?"

There was entirely too much confusion in that question. "Uh... _yeah!_ "

"Then who _am_ I?"

Wally's heart just. Dropped. 

"What, am I a bad guy or something? Why am I wearing a mask?"

"Geez..."

"You don't want to tell me. Fine. I'll find out on my own."

Remembering who he was or not, Dick could _move_. He was away from his pity pile and almost out the door, before Wally had brought his mind to understand what was happening. Dick Grayson did not remember who he was. Dick Grayson, Robin, Batman's partner, had no memory of his identity, and it was freaking him out.

Hell, it was freaking Wally out. 

But at least he had some idea what to do.

He sped after him, and picked him up before accelerating further. Man, he _was_ tiny. Way too light. 

"Hey, what are you doing? LET. ME. DOWN!"

"Don't even think of hurting me, Boy Wonder. I know you can, but you-- I'm only getting you home. Kid Flash style. I'm just getting you home. It'll be all right, there."

"Oh."

"Yeah?"

"... you _are_ sort of... fast, aren't you."

"Tuck your head in so stuff doesn't get in your eyes."

"I don't think it can, through the mask, actually."

"Fine."

"Fine."

... but he hadn't left the city all that far behind before the familiar face tucked against his chest, anyway. 

Maybe... Maybe it _was_ going to be all right.

Wally _really_ hoped so.


	3. Fooled

Last Halloween, Dick had been in a good mood (that was before Bruce and the others left...) and had dressed up as an elf. Because he'd wanted to.

When Wally had heard of that plan, he'd blanked out for a moment. Turned out he'd imagined a _Santa_ elf. Dick had laughed hard at the idea...

... but here he was, today, quietly making his way up from the lower levels of the Cave. Dressed up as exactly _that_. And, since most of his face was covered by fake sideburns and his hair was in a wig, he hadn't bothered with either shades or mask. That'd ruin the effect, after all. Disguises worked best when they were not predictable.

And this one worked up perfectly.

Gar was just coming out of his room, sleepily rubbing his eyes. Dick beamed and waved. "Hello!"

The boy's hand dropped away from his face, wide eyes staring. Then he did what any sane undersized, not up to full capacity (read, caught up in his jammies) resident of Mount Justice _should_ do when an identified person showed up on the premises unannounced. Gar screamed at the top of his lungs and ran.

A moment later, Dick was hit by the wave of M'gann's panic at being woken up by her brother's scream. _Perfect_. If there was any chance that people would sleep through Gar? A psychic wake-up call would finish the job.

The jolly 'elf' laughed merrily and made his way to the common room, perching up on the counter to watch everybody pop out of their rooms and warily collect around him, the worried, angry, suspicious looks absolutely fantastic over various sleepwear. Conner was split between glaring at the intruder and casting Wolf confused glances for not being alarmed. At least the 'intruder' wasn't doing anything threatening.

It wasn't until Tim finally made his way there, hair all over the place but mask firmly in place, that anyone said anything. It _was_ Robin. He gave the 'elf' a long hard stare, meeting his eyes, and started quietly swearing.

Dick completely lost it, tossing his head up and laughing. "Happy April's Fools, everyone!"

The missile that M'gann threw at him did not come from her direction at all.

"You know," Tim's voice actually sounded threatening. "Sometimes you are such a--"

Bart was snickering, but he managed to interject, "I thought we weren't supposed to use his name!" 

"Got ya!"

Gar was blushing even though the green skin, then covered his face with both hands. A moment later, M'gann was by his side, making sure he was all right.

"Now, since everyone's up, early training in half an hour. Don't fight for the showers." 

Dick was still smiling as he made his way back down to take off the makeup. They had all needed something quick and surprising and amusing, after all. And maybe the footage of their faces would cheer Wally up, a bit.

At least for a moment.

Man, he really wanted this whole job _wrapped up_ and everybody safely home.


	4. Midsummer Night's Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick is cast in a school play.   
> Pre-team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again with the less fluffy.
> 
> Also, this one can work as both New Earth and Earth-16, I think.

Bruce was away on League business for half the month. 

Robin kept an eye on things around Gotham (against his mentor's wishes, and there was _bound_ to be fallout because of that), but the twelve-year-old had gotten good at knowing when to fold and seek backup when a situation needed addressing and it was too much for him alone. It was a relief.

Also, the end of the school year was approaching. And with it, the handful of performances of this year's school play. Bruce was going to miss all of them, unless he returned early. The probability of that was very low.

That was how it was Alfred sitting in the audience, opening night, with a small camera. He hadn't warned young Master Richard that he was going to record it, but he didn't doubt the young man would notice long before the awareness would startle him. 

Either way, when Robin Goodfellow came on stage... well. The audience noticed the difference.

Richard Grayson was a born performer. His usual talents leaned in a direction different from _acting_ , but he certainly could do that, and well. And the role _fit_ him, to boot.

Alfred was impressed, too. It would have been entirely too easy to slip into Robin (the crime-fighting one) to be Robin (Goodfellow), but Richard didn't. What his schoolmates and their parents saw was not the flighty vigilante that cameras had caught all over Gotham. It certainly wasn't the Dick Grayson they knew, either.

It was the Richard Grayson the butler did know, though.

The playfulness, the eagerness to please. The humor and the brightness. The way he moved, so graceful to make people almost believe him an elf.

That little smirk at some lines. _I go, I go, look at me go—faster than an arrow from a Tartar's bow._ \- oh, but than Richard Grayson knew how fast such an arrow could fly. And who could go faster than it, too, as a matter of fact. 

The characteristic cackle was the only time the boy slipped, melding the two Robins perfectly - he could always say he'd heard the sound on TV. (And he had.)

Parents and children alike followed his motions as if transfixed, even if he mostly avoided acrobatics, dutifully bound by the director's blocking and instructions. A matron beside him gasped at the way the Puck cringed, turtled at his king's scolding. Alfred didn't. He'd learned a long time ago that he could get away with silent tears. If Master Bruce ever used that many words, that roughly, this was how his ward would be reacting. Perhaps he'd fight, too, try to explain. Cling to the instruction of how to fix it, just the way the fairy in the play did.

Alfred hoped nobody had the bright idea to cast Master Richard as Ariel. He'd still be perfect. It would bruise his poor old heart even more, the scenes with Prospero way too close to what Master Richard and Master Bruce never actually said.

At least things were getting better. Master Bruce was listening to him, handling situations with more understanding. Alfred had not seen the boy draw in on himself in months - aside from _missing_ his mentor, but that could not be helped.

It was still touching. Still entirely too close to reality to watch the imp come out of the tight spot and fly and shine so brightly again. 

_If we shadows have offended, think but this, and all is mended..._

Alfred wondered how few in the audience caught the twist in Robin's voice, there. The irony. The slight wish that, when things went bad (and they always did, sooner or later, and Master Richard knew that already), Gotham's shadows could ask forgiveness as easily. 

The applause was deafening in the skewed acoustic of the school gym, way too loud than anyone expected, from a school play. Another audience that the last of the Flying Graysons had captivated. (True, Alfred thought some of the other performances were interesting, too. But nobody questioned who the star of the play was.) The butler put away the camera as soon as the curtain call finished and slipped away to be ready to meet the tiny current lord of the big Manor when he was ready to be taken home.

There would be hot chocolate, bringing the boy down from the high of (well-earned) attention, and--

\-- or not. Jealous words had managed to rob away the satisfaction of a job well done. 

Well. Hot chocolate, cookies, and a favored film. Alfred hoped that Master Bruce might call, even if only for a couple of minutes. Some nights, the mission permitted it. 

If not, chances were that the boy would fall asleep falling sideways against Alfred's own arm, on the couch.

He didn't mind that part. Only the loneliness that would lead up to it.


End file.
